


Rated R

by Auriette



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Charity Fic, Dubious Consent, Fandom Cares, Horror, I'm Still Bad At Tagging, I'm tired, M/M, Non-Explicit, Non-con touching, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski - Freeform, Popcorn, Public Hand Jobs, Public Masturbation, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Steter - Freeform, auction fic, blink and you miss it - Freeform, dub-con, fandomcares, for Lisa, handjob, i don't remember our own tag right now, its late, jerking off, just to be sure people get the message, movies - Freeform, stilinski feels for a quick moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 00:57:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auriette/pseuds/Auriette
Summary: If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts





	Rated R

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts).



> Hey Winter-Girl, 
> 
> i hope you like my attempt on writing you a fic. <3 
> 
> Thanks for, you know, being you. <3

The room wasn’t as big as you’d expect by looking at the building from the outside.The red upholstered seats were worn down around the edges and a few seams were torn apart, uncovering the yellow filling which had turned a dark brown over time. The wooden ledge that was built along the back of the seats was covered in dents, nicks and cigarette burned holes next to the built in ashtrays, giving it an overall dated charm that only the newer electric lamps could break apart for a moment.

The seats were parted by a small aisle in the middle, barely leaving enough space for two to pass through side by side. Trails of day-old popcorn were visible on the steps down from the first to the last row next to almost vanished trails of various drinks. 

But even this worn down and used, the old flair of the theater was still working its charm on whoever passed by. It always started with the overwhelming smell of sweet buttered popcorn carrying itself out onto the street, which turned into a greeting bittersweet cloud of nostalgia once through the doors, the funk of twenty years of compressed bodies expressing every emotion wrung out of them by the images on the screen, fear and sorrow and hope in a fog pressed into the velour of every seat. 

Stiles loved this room. He had lots of memories of days where he came with his Dad and Mom to see old black and white movies, sharing a huge pink and white striped bag of too sweet popcorn. He remembered how he always sat in the middle, feeling comfortable and warm, his Mom smiling down on him before she looked up into his Dad’s face. They were a happy little family. 

After her death Stiles never once had been here with his Dad- leaving the times he shared laughs and tears over movies to his friends instead. 

Times like today, where he and his friends were seated in one of the rows in the back watching an old horror movie. It was the week before halloween and, as usual for this time of year, the classics returned to the screen, resolved on filling the seats with people all ages to enjoy the wonder and beauty of old horror for the first or more times. 

His popcorn was almost gone when he felt someone taking the seat next to him. He was about to turn and take a look at the person who was getting into a movie this late but a hand was laid over his mouth, stopping him from moving. 

He grabbed for the hand in panic, trying to tear it away from his face but it wouldn’t move and the panic rose, adrenaline pumping through his body with nowhere to go. 

“Don’t move, or your face won’t be so pretty anymore.” 

Stiles felt the sharpness of a claw digging into his skin the moment the other said the first word and forced himself to hold still. 

“I won’t hurt you. If you keep still.” The faceless man continued whispering in his ear.

Stiles swallowed hard around the lump in his throat as his mind reeled with the new information about the man who held him still. He recognized the voice immediately and if not, the fact that he was a werewolf was a dead give away. Emphasis on the dead.

Even if his mind was coming to terms with this change of situation, his body was still in shock, tensing and shaking uncontrollable and part of him wondered why the others didn’t take notice of what was happening next to them. Why was nobody trying to help him? Why was nobody talking, saying anything at all? 

He couldn’t move his head to take a look, neither towards his friends, nor towards Peter Hale, who still had his hand over his mouth, keeping him in place. Barley letting him breathe between finger and thumb just under his nose.

“That’s good, just like this,” Peter’s lips brushed against the shell of ear and Stiles’ first reaction was to jerk away, but the claw digging deeper into his face was a quick reminder that he better not do that. 

What happened next was like a fall down a rollercoaster or a waterfall; you could see it coming- could see yourself getting higher and higher before you’d fall down in the unpreventable abyss - unable to get out. 

Peter’s hand rested on his thigh, heavy and hot through the fabric. He spread his fingers out over it, feeling the thick denim of the jeans Stiles wore. 

“I followed you here,” Peter kept his voice low, barley a hush in his ear, “but don’t worry, I’m not here to harm you- Quite the opposite.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure but he believed he heard some sort of playfulness in the other’s voice. It wasn’t anything he had heard before and it made his stomach sink deeper as he felt Peter’s hand move up his thigh as he spoke. Curling in.

He knew it was wrong. He felt it in the pit of his stomach all the way down to his tingling toes.  
The moment the hand touched his thigh he should have pushed it away. When it wandered up his leg, inch by inch, he should have tried to make it stop. 

“Look how a simple touch,” Peter let his finger brush over the bulge of Stiles’ jeans, “makes you shiver.” He took a deep breath through his nose right behind Stiles ear and kept it in like he was considering the taste of an expensive wine before he let it out through his mouth, letting a sweet rough rumble follow it. 

“So eager aren’t you?” Peter teased as Stiles hips buckled up to catch the warmth of his hand again. He let his hand trail up and down Stiles leg never resting in one place for long before it found his way back up towards Stiles’ hard length that was now barely hidden by his jeans, pressing hard against the rough zipper

“Can you imagine what these hands,” Peter let his hand rest flat on top of Stiles hard dick, pushing down a bit to create more fiction, “could do for you? What they could make you feel?” 

Stiles swallowed hard but kept his lips pressed together. He couldn’t trust himself to open them, couldn’t trust not to let sweet wimpers pass them once they had the chance. Peter’s teasing was painfully hot and he couldn’t hold it any longer. 

“If you could see yourself now,” Peter whispered further, his lips parting and his wet tongue dragging itself teasingly around the shell of Stiles’ ear. “If we weren’t in public I would be down on my knees, sucking you in until you couldn’t take it anymore.” 

And just like that Stiles came.

The pressure that had built up from his stomach and all through his body released itself in a moment of complete ecstasy. His muscles tightened and his lips pressed together hard; he came in his jeans and spilled his come all over himself. 

Peter grinned a wolf’s grin and took his hand away before he stood up. “Well, this was fun,” he said and turned to leave. “I’ll be around.”. 

All Stiles could do in that moment was watch him with eyes and mouth wide open. 

Before he came to his senses, another hand laid itself on his shoulder. He turned around in shock to look into Scott’s happy face. “Hey man, the movie’s over, lets get something to eat.”


End file.
